


Truly, Deeply, Madly

by ScarletTabby



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 19:52:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2163069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletTabby/pseuds/ScarletTabby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The love story of Minerva McGonagall and Albus Dumbledore, from first meeting to the end of Harry Potter's years at Hogwarts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Boy Who Lived

Chapter 1: The Boy Who Lived

November 1st, 1981

All day long, a gray tabby cat sat on a the corner of Privet Drive in a small suburb in Surrey. All day long, the cat watched the occupants of Number 4, the Dursleys. If one didn’t know better, one would think the cat had a look of disdain in its emerald green eyes. But of course, cats could do no such thing. The cat remained on its street corner from early in the day to very late at night, when all the residents of Privet Drive had gone to sleep.  


Out of the darkness came a spectacular looking man. He had a long silver beard with hair to match. His purple robes swished around his tall frame as he walked down the street. His blue eyes twinkled behind half-moon glasses in the glow of the streetlamps. The man stopped and looked directly at the cat.  


“Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall,” he smiled.  


The cat twitched its tail before transforming itself to a middle-aged woman with black hair pulled back into a tight bun. Her green eyes gazed at the man behind square-rimmed glasses.  


“How did you know it was me?” she asked, not bothering to return his smile.  


“My dear professor, I have never known any other cat to sit so stiffly.”  


She scoffed at his observation and walked with him toward Number 4. “Is it true, Albus? What they’re saying?”  


“Yes, Minerva. It is true. Voldemort is gone.”  


She shuddered at the mention of the name. “And the Potters? James and Lily? Are they…”  


“I’m afraid so. They were killed. I’m very sorry, my dear. I know how fond you were of them. But tiny Harry survived,” he told her, placing a comforting arm around her shoulders.  


Silent tears made their way down Minerva McGonagall’s pale cheeks. “What is to become of the boy? You don’t really intend to leave him here do you?” Albus nodded. “But you can’t! I’ve watched them all day and they’re the worst sort of muggles imaginable. He would be much better off…”  


“Away from the fame that he now unfortunately has,” he interrupted. “He is safer here. They are the only family he has, Minerva.”  


At this, a new wave of tears filled her eyes. She opened her mouth to respond when the roar of an engine came from the sky.  


“Ah that will be Hagid. He’s bringing Harry.”  


Minerva raised her eyebrows, doubting Hagrid’s abilities, but said nothing as a giant flying motorbike landed in the street beside them.  


A giant man with bushy dark hair and beard stepped off the bike, holding a tiny bundle in his oversized hand. “Pr’fessor Dumbledore, sir. Pr’fessor McGonagall,” he nodded in greeting at them. “Here he is, sir, safe and sound. Fell asleep as we was makin’ our way over Bristol.”  


Hagrid handed the baby to Albus. Minerva stood by and looked down at his tiny sleeping face. She brushed his black hair out of his face with her slender fingers. A cut shaped like a lightening bolt was etched into his small forehead. Reluctantly, she allowed Albus to place the baby on the doorstep of Number 4. He attached a letter addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Dursley to Harry’s blanket.  


Hagrid sniffed back tears. “Well I’d better get this bike back to Sirius Black. Good night, Pr’fessors.”  


“Thank you Hagrid,” Albus said as Hagrid restarted the bike and flew off into the night.  


Minerva had not taken her eyes off of the baby. “Albus, are you sure it has to be this way? Couldn’t we…”  


“No, Minerva. He needs to be with family. When he is old enough, he will be told. We shall see him again, never you fear.”  


“Albus, I have something I need to tell you. But not here.” With that, she disappeared on the spot with a tiny ‘pop.’  


Albus furrowed his brow in confusion. He needed to follow her but first he had to take care of Harry. He rang the doorbell and just as Vernon Dursley opened the door, Albus disappeared just as Minerva had.  


His voice echoed on the breeze, “Good luck, Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived.”


	2. First Impressions

Chapter 2: First Impressions

September 1st, 1941

“Welcome to our new students, and welcome back to those returning. Just a few announcements before we feast: our caretaker Mr. Pringle has a revised list of banned items on the door of his office, as well as on the announcement board in each common room. The Forbidden Forest continues to be, of course, forbidden to all students. And I’m happy to share that we have a new addition to our staff this year. Albus Dumbledore, famed for discovering the 12 uses of dragon’s blood in 1932, will arrive later tonight and take over as Transfiguration professor and Head of Gryffindor House for Professor Prewitt, who is currently enjoying his retirement with his extended family. I’m sure we are all excited and proud to have Professor Dumbledore join our school. And now, let us enjoy our dinner.”  


A young girl, her emerald eyes trained on the headmaster during his speech, turned to her plate as hoards of food appeared in front of her. She ate in silence, contemplating the idea of a new professor and Head of House. Obviously she knew him by name. Not only had his discoveries regarding dragon’s blood been made famous all over the wizarding world, but his name was found in a smattering of school records from two decades before for all of his academic awards. He must not be very old, she thought, pushing her square-rimmed glasses back up her nose, at least compared to the rest of the professors. She wished she had time to go to the library before bed to find out more about him. Normally she wouldn’t be so worried about a new professor, but Transfiguration was her favorite subject, and she took her instruction in it very seriously. In addition, Professor Dumbledore would be her Head of House, and if she didn’t like him, she knew her stubbornness would create conflict with him in her future.  


Finishing her meal, she pushed her raven-colored braid behind her back and followed the rest of her House up to Gryffindor Tower. She walked straight up to the third year girls’ dormitory. Upon reaching her bed, she pulled out her trunk, running her pale fingers over the peeling green and gold letters, reading “Minerva M. McGonagall.” She smiled, remembering seeing them brand new on her eleventh birthday. As she pulled out her Transfiguration book, she finally decided to meet her new professor with an open mind. After all, with all of his awards, he must know what he’s doing.  


The next morning at breakfast, she received her course schedule from Headmaster Dippet himself. She looked at him questioningly, and he told the Gryffindor table that Professor Dumbledore had just arrived at school and was preparing for his class. Minerva took her schedule and examined it while remarking to herself that Professor Dumbledore’s apparent lack of organization did not bode well for his teaching abilities. She sighed as she noticed that Transfiguration was her first class of the day. She finished eating and rushed back upstairs to collect her materials.  


Minerva arrived early to an empty classroom. Actually, the classroom was far from empty. Devoid of people would have been a more apt expression. She took a seat in front, next to the professor’s desk. She gazed around, noticing the small shiny, whirring objects covering most of the surfaces, the colorful mobiles hanging from the ceiling, and the glorious Transfiguration diagrams tacked to the walls. Deciding she’d have plenty of opportunity to examine all of the curiosities, Minerva pulled out her parchment, quill, wand, and books. She opened one of the texts to where she had left off the night before as her fellow third years filed into the room. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a purple-clad figure coming out of the office door behind the desk. She hastily put her book away and looked up. She was rather surprised at what she found.  


Albus Dumbledore stood tall and proud, but not at all haughty or intimidating. His auburn hair fell around his ears and a matching beard covered the lower half of his face, coming down about two inches below his chin (or at least where Minerva assumed his chin to be). A kind smile graced his well-formed lips. His nose was on the long side and slightly crooked. Half-moon glasses rested in front of the bluest eyes she had ever seen. Like two precious sapphires, they twinkled as he gazed over the room of students.  


Minerva realized she was gaping at him and closed her mouth as he began to speak in a powerful but kind voice.  


“For those of you who couldn’t guess, I am Albus Dumbledore, your new Transfiguration professor. And for the Gryffindors in the room, I am also your new Head of House, a Professor Dippet no doubt told you. Now, I know Professor Prewitt had you all doing basic animal transfigurations in your second year. Beetles into buttons and the like?” The students nodded. “Well, we’ll start today with something a bit more challenging, just so I can judge your skill level. I shall demonstrate the lesson, and then I’ll walk amongst you while you practice.”  


He demonstrated the proper method of turning a hedgehog into a pincushion. “Don’t be discouraged if you cannot achieve the desired result. I understand that it is more advanced than what you’re used to.” Professor Dumbledore began to move around the room, asking each of the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs their names as he observed their failed attempts at creating pincushions. He made his way around the room and finally back to the front where Minerva sat, engrossed in her book. The hedgehog was curled up in the open box it was given to her in.  


“Too difficult Miss…”  


“McGonagall, sir. Minerva McGonagall. And no, the spell was not too difficult.” She put her book down as she spoke.  


“Miss McGonagall, I do believe that is a sixth year Transfiguration textbook, not the one assigned for this class.”  


“Yes, sir. My sister gives me her books when she’s through with them. I’ve already read this one once over the summer, so I’m just reviewing the passages I had trouble with. I of course have the third year text if you would prefer I read that, although I have already read it four times.”  


Dumbledore smiled curiously at the seeming genius of this young lady. “Well Miss McGonagall, if today’s lesson did not give you any difficulty, why is there a hedgehog and not a pincushion sitting on your desk?”  


“Well I figured that you could reuse the hedgehog for future classes if I changed it back when I was finished.”  
Dumbledore was dumbfounded, but continued to simply smile at her. “You mean to say that you are able to change a small mammal to an inanimate object and then back again in your third year?” Minerva nodded. “Could you demonstrate please?”  


Minerva waved her wand at the small creature and muttered the spell. A purple pincushion appeared in its place.  


“There aren’t any pins,” Dumbledore commented. Pins were usually a sign that the student had not been able to transfigure the entire animal. A common mistake for a young witch or wizard.  


“Would you like some, sir?” Minerva waved her wand once more and six silver pins appeared in the pincushion. Dumbledore’s eyes widened.  


“Is there something wrong, sir? Should it be a different color? I just assumed you’d like purple based on your robes.” She muttered another spell and the purple turned to scarlet and gold stripes. “Gryffindor colors,” Minerva smiled and her eyes shined at her own phenomenal work.  


Dumbledore slowly blinked at the pincushion and then at Minerva. A thirteen year old witch who could do a perfect complex animal transfiguration, with the control to choose the color at her whim and conjure pins, all without needing to say the spell clearly, something young students desperately need in their wand work.  


“Would you like the hedgehog back now, sir?” The professor simply nodded, still deep in thought about the girl’s skill thus far. Changing an animal to an inanimate object was one thing, but turning an inanimate object to a living animal in all its complexity was another all together. Surely she hadn’t mastered this feat as well?  


The next thing he knew, the hedgehog was crawling around his little box, as good as new. Dumbledore stared at it for a moment as Minerva watched him expectantly, hoping she had not showed off too much. She was sure she would like this man, and she prayed she hadn’t made a bad impression on him.  


Dumbledore cleared his throat and shook himself. “Did you vanish the pins before or after transfiguring the cushion?”  


“Neither, sir. I just integrated them into the spell to be transfigured to his original quills.”  


“That is incredibly advanced magic for a witch your age.”  


“Thank you, sir.”  


“You may continue to read any Transfiguration book you choose, Miss McGonagall,” he told her as he walked to his own desk. Minerva quickly resumed her reading on human transformations. He gazed at her for a moment, wondering how she had learned so much, and how aware she was of her own immense skill. She seemed perfectly humble and polite. Hopefully she would keep these traits in her future.  


As the hour drew to a close, Dumbledore assigned a short essay to the class and dismissed them. Minerva packed her book bag after writing down her assignment. She walked up to her teacher’s desk.  


“Professor Dumbledore?”  


He looked up from the note he was writing and smiled at her. “Yes, Miss McGonagall?”  


“In some of my readings, I’ve come across the concept of animagi. I’m rather curious to learn more about it, and I was wondering if you possibly knew of any texts I could look at.”  


“That is wildly complex magic, Miss McGonagall. Far more advanced than anything taught at Hogwarts. But based on what I’ve seen you accomplish here, I’m sure you would be able to understand. If you can wait a moment, I’ll retrieve a few books from my private collection for you.”  


After thanking her new professor profusely, Minerva left class with three more books in her bag and a big, beautiful smile on her face.  


Albus Dumbledore watched her go and chuckled at her enthusiasm. Oh Merlin, he thought, I wasn’t expecting anyone like that. She’ll be a handful, I’m sure.  


As Albus prepared for his next class, he smiled, knowing that Minerva McGonagall would most likely end up being the student of whom he would be most proud.


	3. A Christmas Cat

Chapter 3: A Christmas Cat

December 23rd, 1941

Albus Dumbledore sat in his office and watched the snow fall outside the window beside his desk. The fire crackled happily in the hearth. He sighed and looked back at the pile of sixth year essays on his desk. Usually he liked to relax with friends during the days leading up to Christmas, but now that he had a steady job teaching the next generation of witches and wizards, he was constantly busy preparing for classes, grading essays, and managing Gryffindor House. Without a doubt, he did love his new position. At thirty-six, he was one of the youngest professors at the school, but teaching suited him. It challenged his magnificent talents in very new ways, and his patience and compassion were exercised daily. Every time a student mastered a new spell, a spark of joy was lit in Dumbledore’s soul.  


His best student by far was Miss McGonagall. The child was a marvel. Her skill never ceased to surprise him. The third year curriculum was vastly below her, but Albus hadn’t yet devised a way to properly challenge her, beyond lending her more and more books. She seemed to devour their lessons immediately, returning them to him within a week, always endlessly thanking him for his generosity. The only books she had not yet returned, he realized, were the three he on animagi he had given her after their first class. He wasn’t worried though. She probably wanted to reread them for better understanding.  


He returned to his grading when he heard a scratching at his door, followed by an odd cry. He opened the door and saw a small silver blur streak into his office. A small tabby cat ran all around the room, finally returning to paw at the hem of Albus’ robes. The little cat seemed rather nervous.  


“Where did you come from, little one?” He picked up the squirming feline and examined it. The cat stopped moving and stared into Albus’ bright blue eyes. The deep emerald green eyes of the cat were wide with fear. Albus’ eyes narrowed as he tried to place where he had seen that very specific color of green. The charcoal markings around the eyes were strange…almost like square-rimmed glasses…  


All of a sudden, the little cat jumped from his grasp and out the door. A few seconds later, it returned and stood in the doorway, staring back at him.  


“You want me to follow?” Albus chuckled. The cat walked away and flicked its tail at him. Albus followed as the cat padded through the castle. It stopped in its tracks and looked back at him as they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, the entrance to Gryffindor Tower.  


Up until this point, Albus was amused by the little animal and certainly curious about its origins. Now he was worried. Why would an enchanted cat lead him to the dormitories of his House? He said the password and followed the grey cat inside. Once inside, the animal became anxious once again, running about until it finally jumped on top of a table by the fireplace. The cat rested upon an open book and looked up with the same frightened eyes. Albus moved to pick up the cat, praying the open book was not one of the ones he had lent to Minerva on her first day. He was even more dismayed that not only was it one of those books, but the very volume that described in depth the process of being an animagus.  


Albus sank into one of the fluffy red armchairs with a groan. Minerva sat on the arm of the chair as Albus closed his eyes, deep in thought. A moment later, he opened them and stood up.  


“Miss McGonagall?” The cat looked up at him and nodded. Albus sighed. “I take it you’ve transformed yourself and cannot change back, is that right?” She nodded again. “I can change you back; have no fear about that,” he told her and her body relaxed a bit. “However,” she tensed up again. “I must warn you that the spell required isn’t meant for an animagus without full control of her transformations. It might be painful and possibly drain your magic to the point of unconsciousness; I do not know how it will affect you.”  


Minerva nodded, jumped off the chair and rubbed her tiny head against Albus’ ankles, showing her trust in him. Albus gave her a sad smile. “Miss McGonagall, I’m afraid I must examine you to be sure that you have indeed done a complete transformation. If not, the spell could do more harm than good.”  


She leapt back onto the table so he could see her better. He gently moved his large hands along her head, back, legs and tail, checking everywhere for evidence of human physiology. When he was satisfied that she was indeed completely feline, he carried her over to an open area of the floor and backed away. Raising his wand, he asked if she was ready. She nodded one final time and closed her eyes in preparation for whatever was to come. Albus took a deep breath, praying he wouldn’t hurt her.  


He performed the spell. Minerva cried out and jerked a bit as the magic forced her back to her human form. When the change was complete, she crumpled to the floor, completely limp. Albus rushed to her side, took her delicate body in his arms and carried her out of the tower.  


When they reached the hospital wing, Albus shouted for the matron. Madam Byrne rushed out to find a very bewildered Professor Dumbledore with a young female student in his arms. Albus placed her gently on one of the beds as he explained what happened. Madam Byrne performed a few diagnostic spells on Minerva as Albus watched, brow furrowed with concern. Finally the matron spoke, “She’ll be fine, Professor Dumbledore. You did indeed drain her magic, and it will take awhile for her to regain it, but no there is no permanent damage.”  


“Thank you so much, Madam Byrne. When will she wake up? How long will her recovery be?”  


“There is unfortunately no way to tell. She could be fine in a few days or a few weeks. She’s very young, and immature magic takes longer to recover, but she must be very powerful to have achieved a full animagus transformation, which should cut her recovery time down. We shall just have to wait and see. She’ll be alright, Professor. It’s late. You should get some rest.”  


“Please let me know the moment she wakes up.”  


“Of course. Goodnight, Albus.”  


“Goodnight. And thank you again.”  


Albus slept very poorly the next two nights. The idea that a student was in the hospital, unconscious, because of a book he gave her weighed very heavily on his mind. His foolishness had put her at risk. He should have predicted this would happen, a girl with her abilities. As a young man, he might have done the same thing. There was so much of Minerva that was like him: her curiosity, her intense desire to learn all that she could. But their differences were what confused him about her; she was quiet but not shy, polite and friendly, but somehow private and distant. She was a very interesting girl, especially for someone so young. He hoped she would be able to recover quickly. 

Early Christmas morning, Albus was awoken by shouts coming from the fireplace in his sitting room. He threw on his dressing gown to meet Madam Byrne’s face in the green flames.  


“She’s waking up.”  


Albus heard no more as he rushed out of his room to the hospital wing. When he arrived, Madam Byrne was bustling about near Minerva’s bed. She moved away to get Albus a chair as he approached.  


Minerva’s eyelids fluttered open and were met by Professor Dumbledore’s bright smile and sapphire eyes. She blinked a few times and remembered the horror of her transformation. She gasped at the realization that she was most likely about to be expelled.  


“It’s alright, Miss McGonagall. You’re in the hospital wing. Do you remember what’s happened?” he asked her soothingly.  


“Yes, sir. How long have I been here?” Minerva began to fidget in her embarrassment.  


“Nearly two days. Merry Christmas, by the way,” Albus smiled brightly at her.  


“Merry Christmas, Professor Dumbledore.” Minerva was relieved when Madam Byrne returned to Minerva’s side at that moment. Professor Dumbledore’s obvious concern for her well-being made her feel both elated and a bit uncomfortable. No one, other than her parents perhaps, ever looked at her the way he did now: worried and proud at the same time.  


Minerva now noticed the pile of wrapped gifts on a table by her bed. She smiled and Professor Dumbledore followed her gaze. Albus smiled. Every child, even bright Minerva, loved Christmas. When Madam Byrne moved away again, he handed Minerva one of her presents.  


“I have many things I wish to discuss with you, Miss McGonagall, but right now it is Christmas morning and you deserve to open your gifts.”  


Minerva took the package from him with one of her rare full smiles on her face. She announced the sender of each gift as he gave them to her one at a time and proceeded to methodically remove the wrapping. Albus chuckled as he thought of how he liked to childishly rip the paper of the gifts in his excitement for his own gifts.  


“What about your gifts, Professor? I shouldn’t be the only one with all the fun,” Minerva said after all of her gifts were unwrapped and sitting on the side table.  


“Mine are waiting for me in my rooms, and I sincerely doubt that any of them will be as nice as yours,” Albus replied, looking at the gifts she had received: a sweater and a tin of ginger newts from her mother, brand new Transfiguration books from her aunt and uncle, a beautiful new chess set from her father, and a book about makeup charms from her sister. Minerva scoffed at the last one, prompting Albus’ curiosity.  


“You sister is Helen McGonagall, am I correct?”  


“Yes, sir. She’s a seventh year in Gryffindor. Blonde, pretty, and outgoing. Nothing like me, as she likes to point out,” Minerva replied, rolling her eyes.  


Choosing to ignore Minerva’s self-deprecation, Albus questioned her further. “She went home for the holidays, and yet you remained at school?”  


“Yes, sir. She will be moving to London after she graduates, so she wanted to see the family for the holidays. And I wanted to stay here to…well…” Minerva trailed off.  


“Work on becoming an animagus, yes I’ve recently become aware to this fact, Miss McGonagall, which brings us to the topic that certainly needs to be discussed…”  


Minerva interrupted him, “Professor Dumbledore, I want you to know that when I asked for those books from you at the beginning of term, I was genuinely just curious about the subject. But when I read what was involved in becoming an animagus, it seemed like an interesting challenge. I didn’t lie to you to get those books, I swear it…”  


This time it was Albus’ turn to interrupt, “I did not think that you had attempted to manipulate me, Miss McGonagall.”  


“I’m so sorry I’ve caused you all this trouble.” Minerva hung her head in shame at her risky actions.  


“Your safety and well-being is no trouble, Miss McGonagall. But I must impress upon you the seriousness of the situation. Animagus transformation isn’t usually attempted by anyone younger than their mid-twenties, at least. And even then, it is always done with a mentor. You have incredible magical power, Miss McGonagall, so I am not too shocked that you could become an animagus at such a young age. But it was very, very foolish to attempt it on your own. If you had gotten stuck in the midst of a transformation or changed only part of your body, there would have been no one to undo your mistakes. You could have ended up much worse than you are now, with a mere magic drain. Which is why if you wish to continue your efforts on becoming an animagus, I must ask you to promise that you will not do so unless under my direct supervision,” Albus explained.  


“You mean…you mean that you’ll help me, Professor?” Minerva asked tentatively.  


“Yes, of course. As your teacher, it is my duty to facilitate your learning. Did you think that I would refuse to aid you?”  


Minerva blushed a bit and fidgeted with the edge of the blanket on the bed. “Well, I thought that if I asked you, you would tell me that I’m too young and I wouldn’t be able to do it. I just wanted to try, sir,” Minerva responded quietly.  


“Miss McGonagall, there is never any harm in asking for help. And while others may disagree, I find it good to try to push oneself to be the best that one can be, which, for you, is quite a lot. From my experiences with you, there is a rather high probability that you will succeed in all of your endeavors.”  


Minerva smiled. Tears came to her green eyes, but she held them back. Never had anyone, save for her father, given such high praise for her talents.  


Seeing her slight embarrassment at his words, Dumbledore changed the subject, “Now then, Miss McGonagall, based on your father’s lovely Christmas gift to you, I’d say you play chess. And you being as you are, I’d also hazard a guess that you are quite good. I flatter myself to say that I am a superb chess player. I’d be honored if you would join me in a game.”  


She readily agreed, and he conjured up a chess board to float perfectly between them, him on in his chair and her in the hospital bed. They played six games in total, stopping only to enjoy some of the Christmas feast that Madam Byrne brought them from the Great Hall. Their skills were very well matched. All games were very close, with Albus and Minerva each winning three games. Albus smiled merrily at Minerva’s intense concentration over each and every move. His approach was much more light-hearted, making jokes and conversing with the enchanted pieces. At the end of the last game, which Albus narrowly won, he bade her goodnight, promising to return for another game the next day, seeing as they needed a tiebreaker.  


Minerva closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, smiling at the thought that this had been one of the most enjoyable Christmases she had ever had.  


Far away in his rooms, Albus couldn’t help but think along the same lines as he too gave in to slumber.


End file.
